


Sinking into sweet uncertainty

by MsPeppernose



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Flirting, James Bond AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-05 05:30:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10298651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsPeppernose/pseuds/MsPeppernose
Summary: In which Patrick is James Bond and Pete is Miss Moneypenny





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the "Confessions" square on my Bandom Bingo card, and I hope it just about covers it. This is barely a James Bond AU. Patrick is a spy and Pete is a secretary. The only thing that makes it James Bond AU is the mention of M...
> 
> The first bandom thing I've written in a while. Thank you to LadySmutterella for hosting Bandom Bingo \o/

Pete sits at his desk and stares out the window. He's on top of work for the day so he thinks it’s okay to slack off for just a few moments.

He pulls out a little mirror from his desk drawer and checks his hair - still good. He fiddles with a couple of strands that never behave and then applies lip balm, pressing his lips together to ensure it’s on properly. He’s still bored.

But just as Pete is twiddling his pen in his fingers and staring at a bird out the window, bored of social media, the door behind him opens and he has to jump back to work, opening his Word doc and typing away at the report he’s working on.

“I’ll be in touch, Mr Stump,” M says, and Pete keeps his head down. He knows better to listen in on M’s conversations, and he has the good grace to at least pretend.

“Of course,” Patrick replies.

The door to M’s office closes and it’s just Pete and Patrick left in the foyer. 

“Working hard?” Patrick asks.

Pete’s nervous in that giddy sort of way he always is around Patrick. “Of course,” he parrots, an echo of Patrick’s answer to M, an indication that Pete was listening.

“So all your social media tabs open are just for show?”

Pete blushes as he holds Patrick’s gaze. “You know me, I would never waste company time.”

Patrick’s dressed impeccably, as always, in a well fitting charcoal suit, a matching shirt and no tie. Pete often wonders how many suits Patrick really has because he’s not sure that he’s ever seen the same one twice. Though given the nature of Patrick’s work, maybe they don’t always last long enough for a second wear.

It’s not that Pete’s underdressed - he always dresses for the job, in suit pants, vest and a fitted shirt. His suit jacket is slung over the back of his chair. 

It’s just that Patrick wears his suits so very well.

“So, when are you gonna take me out for that drink, Patrick?” Pete says wistfully. It’s their perpetual flirt, their game that they play whenever Patrick meets with M. They dance around it every time, smiling and playing with each other, never getting further than those few moments. It started from nothing, and it may never go anywhere, but Pete loves those moments with Patrick. It feels dangerous and safe at the same time.

Patrick perches on the edge of Pete’s large, oak desk. His pants bunch up around the thighs and Pete watches him open his suit jacket as he sits. He’s very close of Pete, the scent of his cologne wafting towards Pete. Patrick reaches out a hand to Pete’s tie, rubs the fabric between his thumb and forefinger. This is part of their game, too. Those gentle touches adding an edge to their flirting. Patrick has never been inappropriate with Pete, never harassed him, but the way subtly provocative way that Patrick is with Pete, and the way that Pete reciprocates is just enough to be seductive. 

Pete leans in to the touch, and as he does, Patrick answers.

“We really do need to have that drink. Perhaps ahead of my next meeting here, or after.”

Pete knows the drill. The gleam in Patrick’s eyes and the intimacy of their talks always let Patrick know that Patrick means what he says, but he knows it will never happen.

“Sure, of course,” Pete says.

This time however, Patrick leans a little further in, a little closer to Pete. “I mean it. We dance around this, but I have to confess that I think about it a lot.”

Pete stares at him and takes in the physical aspects that distract him the most; the swell of Patrick’s lip, the red-blonde hair swept off his face, the thick glasses that hide ice-blue eyes, the body underneath Patrick’s suit that Pete knows can exude lethal force.

“I know,” Pete says. “I think about it too.” And he does. After every one of their little flirtations Pete’s left hot and bothered. He feels the heat prickle of his hairline and between his shoulder blades. 

He wonders if Patrick would be as efficient in bed as he is in the field, as ruthless. He wonders if after their drinks, the drink that eludes them every time, if Patrick would bring him back to some super swanky secret spy bachelor pad. He wonders if Patrick would kiss all that lip balm away, kiss Pete until his lips were raw and red and bruised. He wonders if Patrick would fuck him six ways from Sunday like he thinks about, every time. He wonders if Patrick would disappear into the ether after an encounter like Pete has heard he does with other men. Pete’s not sure he would care if Patrick stuck around after so long as they could keep flirting when Patrick’s in the office.

“Then next time I’m here, maybe we will finally grab that drink.”

Patrick lets go of Pete’s tie and smooths his hand down Pete’s chest to flatten the fabric. He stands again, straightening his suit, buttoning the jacket. He looks a little flushed, a little rumpled, maybe almost as much as Pete feels.

“Next time,” Pete says, even as he wonders if next time will ever happen.


End file.
